


Marvelous

by Braincoins



Series: Shallura Holiday Month 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fancy Dress, Pretend Married, Prompt: Princess, SHM2017, Shallura Holiday Month, Shalluramas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12878427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins
Summary: Shiro screws up a fairly simple task, and it falls to Allura to cover for his mistake in front of some new potential allies.





	Marvelous

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Shallura Holiday Month 2017! The prompt was "Princess/Arurahime," so I decided to have Allura be as princess-ly as possible!
> 
> Oh, and this is more like an anthology series. There's not a continuous story through all of them, like I did with Shalluraweek this year; I'm just putting them in a series to keep them all together for my own personal organizational happiness.  
>  =======================================

            “The Grashnarians take their rituals very seriously,” Coran was saying for easily the ten thousandth time.

            “I got it,” Shiro interrupted, a tad snappishly. He took a moment to calm himself down. “We’ve been over and over this. I got it. It’s really not that difficult.”

            “I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s been so long since we hosted a proper ball – that little thing we threw for the Arusians was nothing! – and the Grashnarians are one of the few people to actually successfully repel Galra forces. They’d be outstanding allies for the Coalition and I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

            “It’ll be fine, Coran,” he reassured him. “The team knows how important this is. They’ll behave.”

            Coran barked a laugh. “Paladins _behaving_. That’s a good one.”

            “It’ll be fine,” he repeated.

 

 

            And it was, at first. As he’d promised, the paladins were all behaving (though he did catch Keith tugging in annoyance at the high collar of his dress uniform). Hunk was commanding a veritable army of floating trays, all laden with a variety of gorgeously-made hors d’oeuvres or cups of nunvill. Keith and Pidge were working security: Pidge had set up a network of unobtrusive cameras that could provide on-demand feeds to the paladins through a wrist projector they each wore, and Keith was working things the old-fashioned way by eyeballing anyone who looked like they might be thinking of causing trouble. And Lance was, of course, working the crowd. Shiro had worried about that at first, but it turned out that he was taking the stern warnings he’d been given beforehand to heart. Lance was mingling well, never saying more than a few words to anyone before flittering off to the next conversational cluster like the social butterfly he was. Shiro was duly impressed.

            He was supposed to be helping with security, but he had found himself the center of attention in short order. The Grashnarians seemed impressed with him and he had trouble escaping the ritualized-but-mostly-empty chit chat that he was forced to engage in. _Never say ‘no’ directly; don’t use absolutes – like “never”; don’t smile large enough to show your teeth; don’t be ingratiating; no effusive displays of emotion._ A headache was tiptoeing around the edges of his mind.

            Fortunately, the lights dipped once to get everyone’s attention. That was the cue. _Thank goodness._ Shiro excused himself to get to his place as the music faded away.

            Coran had gone over the princess’s required formal introduction about a dozen times, and they’d even practiced it to get their spots exactly right. The paladins took up positions near the staircase, with Shiro standing in the center. You could draw a semi-circle from one of them to the next, and they faced the crowd initially, standing as the royal guard they were expected to be (and, in effect, were).

            Coran announced, loud and proud and full of pomp, “Princess Allura of Altea.” Shiro counted the ticks; she was supposed to come out and stand at the top of the stairs. He had to wait until she was in place, and they’d timed this during practice. _…three… four… five._ The paladins turned with proper martial precision to face the princess and drop to their knees – the sign that everyone else here should do likewise.

            But when Shiro turned around, he caught full view of her. They’d practiced with her in the same dress and cape combo that he’d come to think of as her “civilian” clothes. He hadn’t really thought that she might be wearing anything else. He was completely unprepared for the vision in front of him.

            Her hair was pulled back from her face with ornate, sparkling clips. Her dress shimmered faintly, and it seemed… pearlescent in the lights: sometimes pink, sometimes blue, sometimes white, all shifting and fading into each other. It clung to her body until it reached her hips, the skirt draping softly nearly to the floor. She still had a high-necked cape on, but it was almost transparent, and edged in gold with golden swirls and patterns over the entirety of it. Instead of her usual circlet, she had a small tiara on top of those moonlight tresses of hers.

            Princess Allura was the most radiant being in the universe right now. Shiro was rendered helpless, unable to do anything but stare at her. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. She was smiling, but as her eyes locked on his, they crinkled lightly at the corners.

            She descended the stairs towards him – not in his general direction, towards _him_ , no one else. Was there even anyone else alive? Did it matter if there were? He was here and she was here, and he could never in his life have imagined someone so gorgeous even noticing him, let alone smiling at him as if the two of them were sharing some secret joke.

            She walked right up to him, then helped herself to his left arm. He thought his heart would burst right out of his chest… until she strong-armed him into turning around to face the crowd again.

            It all came rushing back at once: _I was meant to be kneeling_. Everyone else was. They were also not-so-subtly looking up at him. He wanted to see if the other paladins were kneeling, but he was facing away from them now. He – and Allura – were the center of attention.

            “Thank you. Please rise,” she said smoothly, and though her voice was no different than it was any other day, it resurrected some of his awe of her. She sounded so confident, so powerful… _And she still has her arm in mine._

He risked a look at her, just in time to see her cast another secretive-looking smile at him. “Shall we?” she asked him. He nodded, having no idea what to say or do now. _Coran didn’t go over any of this._

            But that was his own fault. _I was supposed to kneel until she stood before me and I could see the hem of her dress and then I would stand and step aside to let her pass, and…_ At no point was he supposed to be arm-in-arm with her as she made her way through the crowd. _But then, at no point was I to just stand there and gawk like an idiot._

            He remained mostly quiet as they went from group to group. He answered direct questions but otherwise let her do the talking. When he heard her clear her throat, he grabbed a cup of nunvill for her from a passing tray.

            “Thank you, dear.”

            He blinked. _“Dear”?_ But he couldn’t ask her about it; he was being asked a question about Voltron as she sipped her drink.

            At one point, a group of mostly female Grashnarians began offering congratulations. He assumed they were commending Voltron’s many victories thus far, and he thanked them. But before he could segue into the need for a strong Coalition to keep the triumphs coming, Allura squeezed his arm once. He shut up instantly and hoped his face wasn’t as red as he feared it was.

            “I know it’s a bit unorthodox,” Allura said. “But I wished to underscore the need for strong leadership in the trying times ahead of us.” And then _she_ segued into a Coalition pitch.

            _What’s unorthodox? Voltron? I mean, I know it’s the only one of its kind, but “unorthodox” seems a bit… strange. Maybe it’s a translator error. And what does the rest of that mean?_ He was confused but just kept silent for now.

            Not long after, Allura quietly asked him to fetch her some appetizers, and he, regretfully, broke away to gather up an assortment for her. She took his arm again before she thanked him with another “dear.” _What **is** going on?_

Finally, the party began to wind down. Allura was expected to say goodbye to each and every attendee, and since she wouldn’t let go of Shiro, he had to stand there through it as well. When the first came up to leave, Allura bid them farewell then nudged him faintly. He repeated the ritual saying she’d just said, wishing them good night and safe travels. Then over and over and over again it went: Allura first, then him, for every guest.

            When the last had left, Allura finally let go of his arm, just in time for the paladins and Coran to swoop down upon him.

            “I thought you said you knew what you had to do!” Coran was crowing in outrage.

            “Yeah, how’d you forget? It was really easy.”

            “Ha! You had to do it five times in practice before you got it right!”

            “But it was easy for Shiro! He got it right away; we just had to perfect the timing!”

            “How’d you mess up _that_ badly?!”

            “Paladins!” Allura declared. “Please, it’s been a long night. I will explain things to Shiro. You should all get to bed. We’re expected at the Grashnarian Diplomatic Palace early, after all.”

            Coran opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again at a single look from her. He sniffed and then began herding the team away.

            Shiro looked to Allura in bewilderment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I knew exactly what I had to do, but…”

            “But…?” she prompted.

            He swallowed hard and considered lying, but he was tired after a night of wearing an emotional mask. “I was just absolutely captivated by you.” Her cheeks and ears flared, but he kept going, too worn out to keep from babbling. “You were – _are_ – amazing. Just incredible, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful you looked.” He felt his face heating, and he cleared his throat, taking a second to calm himself down before retreating into comfortable professionalism. “I know I screwed up. I’m so sorry. But it didn’t seem to have upset the Grashnarians any, so…”

            “That’s because I covered for your slip-up,” she told him, still blushing.

            “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

            She shrugged. “There are worse things than pretending to be married to you.”

            His eyes widened. “I’m sorry, d-did you say ‘married’?”

            She nodded. “In Grashnarian culture, only my spouse would be allowed to look at me as I descended. You would also be required to stay by my side through the evening, and to bid the guests farewell beside me.” That secretive smile was back. “It’s a good thing you’re not royalty yourself, or it wouldn’t have worked, as you would have been expected to arrive alongside me. I did have to do some explaining as to why I would marry ‘beneath my station’ as it were…”

            “Is that what’s ‘unorthodox’?” he asked as everything clicking into place.

            She nodded. “I wouldn’t be allowed to say that I married you because you’re brave, kind, thoughtful, or handsome. That would scandalize them. But to imply that it is a merger of necessity and leadership worked perfectly, and allowed me to talk more about the Coalition.”

            If he wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now. “I’m… grateful for your quick thinking, Princess. Though not especially surprised by it.”

            She chuckled. “Enough formality, please. We both need to get to bed. You’re going to have to get up extra early so Coran can go over with you the expectations of a royal spouse in diplomatic talks.”

            “Well, I suppose there are worse things than pretending to be married to the most radiant princess in the universe,” he quoted back at her.

            She blushed again. “And, to be clear, even if I’m not allowed to say it, I am still allowed to _think_ it.” Her smile edged into a smirk.

            His brow furrowed. “Sorry, help me out; it’s been a long night.”

            She laughed a little, her blush deepening. “My, um… ‘reasons’ for marrying you.”

            He thought back and felt his face heat again. “Really?” He knew he was grinning like a complete fool, but hardly cared.

            She nodded. “Especially in your dress uniform.” She took a moment and a step back to look him up and down. “Very… impressive.”

            He cleared his throat. “Not half so as you are. You’re like some sort of glowing goddess.”

            She laughed as she began walking. “Now you’re overdoing it.”

            He kept pace with her. “Well, we’re apparently newlyweds…”

            “VERY newly,” she agreed.

            “…so I think I’m required to overdo it. At least when the Grashnarians aren’t around.”

            Her laugh was musical. “Just trying to get into character, are you?”

            “A bit.”

            “Get some sleep instead. You’re going to need it.” She paused and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Good night, ‘dear.’”

            Even knowing it was pretend, it made his pulse quicken to hear her say it. “Good night, dear.” He watched her walk away towards her room, then turned to go back to his own, his heart and mind full with the idea of being the royal consort to the Princess of Altea.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Masks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069943) by [Braincoins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins)




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